This book is becoming my Personal Trauma Booklet. Trigger warning for death, fear, and old video games.
I really don't want to link the events of yesterday to Lauren, but since her birthday was yesterday, I guess I have no choice.
Yesterday was one of those days where I only got a half hour to do creative stuff. Unfortunately, my brain had some amazing song ideas. Now I'm traumatized and I'm writing to make myself feel better. If yesterday had just been a normal day, I could've written a great melody to go over this cool beat I made.
Alas, it was not. Since I'm a teen, my body doesn't let me get up at seven, so I sang from ten to eleven, and then at eleven--the instant I started writing music--I had to do housework and stuff. I got thirty minutes of songwriting in before I had to do a thing for my school that I volunteered for. So I went there, that took three hours, and when I got home I picked up my best friend for the most eventful sleepover of her life.
I pointed out that it was Lauren Jauregui's birthday, she's 23, aka Miley Cyrus's birthday (11/23/1992), and also a great song by Miley, and isn't that wonderful? I went home, went swimming with my friend, and then we went inside for some talking, halfhearted Mad Libs, and my friend watched me passionately fangirl over Lauren Jauregui.
And then it was 8:45. I was excited to stay up until 10:30 because I'm a rebellious teen and I get up at nine anyway, so there's no point in going to bed at nine, since I'm the same amount of tired, but with less time spent being productive.
So then my mom got nauseous.
She leaned over, elevating her hands over her elbows to encourage bloodflow, and tells me to get a bucket because she is going to throw up. Vomit is disgusting, so I run as quickly as I can to get a trash can, empty its contents, more-or-less fling the trash can at her, and definitely fling the new trash bag at her, because she is looking like she was on the edge of emptying the contents of her stomach.
Being my squeamish self, I want to look away, go back to Mad Libs / Lauren Fangirling Session, but I am morbidly curious and watched with fascination as she holds herself over the trash can.
She didn't throw up. No, that would be easy.
Instead, she says that she might need an ambulance. Since there's no way that she would actually need an ambulance, I stand around, kind of openmouthed and stupidly. My sister had arrived, and I think she understands what's going on more than I do. So then Mom tries to shout her wife's name but it comes out as a moan. Her wife is showering, so I yell for her, and there's a bit of a delay. I mention that Mom said she might need an ambulance, and she comes out of the shower, fully dressed (thank goodness), and sits by Mom.
Then Mom falls off the couch.
It's more of a slumping off the couch, because she's leaned against the part where you sit, to the side like she's about to fall over. Her arms are over her head and if it weren't for the fact that her eyes were fluttering, I'd think she was dead.
My sister mentions that we may need to do CPR. I conveniently forget how to do CPR. There's something about pushing to the tempo of "Stayin' Alive" by the Bee Gees, but I can't remember exactly where I press (is it her sternum or would that break her ribs?). There's also mouth-to-mouth, but I need the thing that goes over the mouth to prevent contamination (she said she was gonna throw up and I already ate), and also I think I need to plug her nose and tilt her head up? But I don't entirely remember and at that point, all I know could be wrong, and I could kill her.
I ask them to check for a pulse. My sister does so, reporting that yes, her heart's still beating.
By then, Mama (her wife) has already called 911 and we're waiting. My core's shaking and I can feel my heartbeat all the way down to my navel. I hug my best friend, and she squeezes back, a little too much. I let her squeeze me this time, but it makes me shakier. I just need something to hold onto, something I can control, because I can't control when the paramedics show up, or whether my mom is dying.
